An Unsung Hero
by Link III
Summary: Companion fic to Poisoned Trust. This is Tarus Wesley's story: his struggles, his failures, and his victories.
1. Prologue

**Introduction:**

**By far, my favorite character in Poisoned Trust (and perhaps my favorite character I've ever written) was Tarus Wesley. I wanted to go deeper into his background, his personality, what made him who he is, though...hence, this story. A word of warning: if you haven't read Poisoned Trust yet, don't read any further, as the prologue here contains MAJOR spoilers.**

**Anyway...please, enjoy the story.  
**

* * *

PROLOGUE

Tarus Wesley slowly made his way toward the immense structure looming in the distance, his heart as heavy as the steps he took. He knew what awaited him in there, but he also knew that if he did not confront it, the galaxy was doomed.

That didn't make what he had to do any more comforting, though.

It was strange, he reflected. He had always lived in constant fear of death, fleeing from even the slightest possibility of it. But now, when he knew for sure that his final hour was at hand, he wasn't terrified in the slightest. The ghostly chill of the reaper haunted his every step, but instead of fearing it, he drew solace from it.

Samus Aran's armorsuit was cumbersome to move around in, but he would never dream of complaining about it. It was built for a women with years of training behind her, not a lowly soldier like himself. Besides that, he felt that the stress imposed by wearing the Power Suit was fitting, like he was taking suffering upon himself to atone for the cowardice he had displayed throughout his life…

Wesley recalled an old story that his grandfather had told him, of a man who was nailed to a cross and died for the sins of all of mankind. People once believed that praying to this man would lead them to salvation. He had thought it silly back when he first heard it, but now, as he stood upon the cusp of his demise, he decided that it wasn't so foolish after all. In fact, he briefly considered that the Power Suit which he now donned was his own personal cross…

Samus would be furious when she woke up and found out what Wesley had done…but by then, Wesley thought sadly to himself, he would be long gone.

At last, he reached the entryway to the High Command building. An arch towered over him like a great maw, signifying the entry to the place which was destined to be his tomb. Slowly, he raised his right arm into the air, the arm cannon aiming to the sky. He pulled the trigger, and a shot rang out into the surrounding area, letting Ridley know that he had come.

It was the closest thing he would get to funeral bells.


	2. Edwin Wesley

_**PART 1**_  
Chapter 1

The remote human colony of GI-4a was completely insignificant. Unlike its sister colony of K-2L, it had no great abundance of natural resources, nor was it a major political center as was the case with Mars. The inhabitants of the planet lived quiet, peaceful lives, undisturbed by the affairs of the galaxy.

GI-4a was under the jurisdiction of that great coalition of races known as the Galactic Federation, but the government mostly left the inhabitants alone to govern themselves. The leaders of the galaxy saw no reason to waste troops on a planet so sparsely populated and of so little importance.

It was for this reason that GI-4a had only one delegate in the Galactic Federation. In the year 2060 of the Cosmic Calendar, this delegate was a certain man by the name of Edwin Wesley.

A gaunt, humorless man of about forty-five years, Wesley rarely spoke up in the Federation Assembly, simply because most of the issues being discussed didn't affect his home. He saw no reason to attempt to change the status quo when doing so would only disrupt the peaceful lives that the inhabitants had.

More than anything else, though, he simply wanted to go home. His wife was due to have their second child at any time now, and the sooner the Assembly period was over, the sooner he could leave the Federation Capital.

The current debate was what to do about the increasingly frequent Space Pirate raids on planets and cargo ships that had started about two years ago on K-2L. Wesley, once again, saw no reason to suggest anything; after all, why would the pirates attack a planet like GI-4a? And so he just sat in his seat, listening to Martin Rodriguez of Mars delineating his plans for a stronger military presence in areas on the fringe of Federation space.

Wesley glanced down at his watch. 17:58…just two more minutes until today's session ended. He still had a week to go until the Assembly period ended, though.

Rodriguez concluded with a suggestion that the Federation start looking into bioengineering to match the pirates' projects, and the bell sounded, signaling the end of the session. The numerous delegates rose to their feet and began milling about, some speaking to acquaintances, others leaving as soon as they could reach the door. As the crowd dispersed, Wesley was approached by a ferret-like creature about four and a half feet tall.

"Ol' Rory had better watch out," Parzin commented jovially. "I think Rodriguez has got his eye on the presidency."

Wesley frowned at his Hyin friend. "Roraum's been elected president consistently for the last four elections," he pointed out. "And Rodriguez isn't nearly well-known enough – or popular enough among those who do know him, for that matter – to beat such a well-entrenched opponent."

Parzin nodded. "That's true, but if the pirate raids continue, people will start calling for more military action, and then a pacifist like Roraum won't stand a chance of victory in the next election."

"I suppose you have a point," Wesley conceded. "But that's still quite a ways off." He started walking in the direction of his office, thinking that Parzin would leave him alone. He didn't.

"What do you think we should do about the pirate raids, anyway? We can't just keep a passive role like we've been doing up until now, can we? We need to show the Space Pirates that if they mess with the Federation, there'll be consequences."

Wesley shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure what to think of them…my home is out of the way enough that I don't have to worry about it being attacked, but on the other hand, I can see the threat these raids pose to Federation authority. If you ask me, the best course of action to take would be to intimidate the pirates, make them think that we're going to go after them, then see if the frequency of the attacks goes down."

"And if it doesn't?" prodded Parzin.

"Then I don't know what to do next," confessed Wesley. "The most obvious solution would be to increase the military presence across Federation space, but of course the common people don't want the army interfering with their affairs…"

Parzin sighed. "I don't see why they're so averse to it; it's for their own safety, after all."

They reached Wesley's office. "Well, I've got to run," Parzin said. "Hopefully we'll be able to get this mess settled in the next week. See you later." With a quick bow, the Hyin scurried off.

Wesley unlocked his office and sat down in his seat, exhausted. Two bookcases lined the walls, filled with old human literature from the days of Earth: books like A Tale of Two Cities, Crime and Punishment, and The Great Gatsby. He was fascinated by them, relics of a bygone era, back when humanity was confined to that slowly rotting orb, with no knowledge of the countless species of the cosmos.

His most prized possession, though, was a photograph which he kept in a frame on his desk: a photograph showing a lush, green mountain, set against a blue sky dotted with white clouds.

It was evidence that Earth had not always been the hellhole that it was now. It was proof that Earth had once been beautiful.

He gazed at it for a few seconds before he noticed that he had a new message. It was from his brother-in-law.

"Edwin: congratulations, your wife just gave birth to your son a few hours ago. His name is Tarus, after your grandfather. Christine can't wait for you to get back home. Serina says hello. Stay safe. Sincerely, Troy."

Attached to the message was a picture of a baby, wrapped in blankets, cradled in Christine's arms. His firstborn daughter, the four-year-old Serina, stared up at him from the picture with wide eyes, as if she couldn't believe that she now had a brother. He stared at the picture for several minutes, etching every detail of his newborn son's face into his mind.


	3. Capture

Chapter 2

Wesley watched the stars go by idly, his head resting on his hand. It would take about a day for the ship to reach his home – but then again, he mused, it could be worse. He could have to take public transportation, in which case it would take even longer. That was one of the perks of working for the government – he got private transportation to and from his home.

Yawning, Wesley stood up and walked over to the water cooler for a drink.

Just then, the ship was seized by a series of severe tremors. The lights flickered on and off briefly, and Wesley was thrown to the floor.

Confused and frightened, Wesley hoisted himself up and contacted the pilot. "What was that?" he demanded.

The pilot's voice crackled through the speaker. "Seems that we've stumbled upon a couple of pirate ships. Don't worry, there aren't that many. I'm sure we can outmaneuver them."

Shakily, Wesley nodded, more to comfort himself than anything else, and returned to his seat. The thought occurred to him that he should probably strap himself in, but before he could, the ship started moving again at a breakneck speed. Wesley threw his hands out just in time to stop his head from slamming into the wall. Heart racing, he glanced out the window. One of the pirate vessels was flanking the ship, keeping up quite easily despite their speed. Suddenly, it swerved to the side and smashed into the Federation ship, knocking Wesley to the floor again as they were thrown off balance.

As Wesley got to his knees, a low rumble reached his ears, and he realized that the ship had stopped moving.

Nervously, he peered out the window again. The pirate vessels seemed to have disappeared, but that was impossible…

His hands clammy and quivering, Wesley fumbled with the communicator to contact the pilot again. "Are we okay? Did we escape?" he asked, his voice shakier than he would have liked. The low buzz of static was all that met his ears.

Alarmed now, Wesley began making his way toward the cockpit to ensure that the pilot was unharmed.

"Hello?" he called timidly as he stepped through the hatch.

The pilot was slumped over in his seat, eyes blank and staring straight ahead. A hole the size of a quarter was in the side of his head; the skin around it was scorched black. One of the windows was shattered; a pirate vessel was stationed right by the remains, ensuring that nothing was sucked out into the vacuum of space. A red, insectoid form was fiddling around with the ship's controls; it had not yet noticed Wesley.

Involuntarily, Wesley let out a whimper of fear, and the insectoid creature rapidly turned to face him. Several horizontal ridges lined its head, framing its fiery eyes. The crab-like pincers it had instead of hands clicked menacingly, and Wesley was keenly aware of the guns set within them.

Trembling, Wesley raised his hands into the air, praying that the Space Pirate would accept his surrender. It let out a strange, high-pitched chirping sound, followed by a series of guttural snarls. It gestured over to the broken window; Wesley hastily made his way there, and the hatch to the pirate ship opened. The Space Pirate, after pilfering anything of value that it could find in the cockpit, led him into the vessel. Soon, they came to a simple jail cell; there was a slab of metal on the side that was clearly supposed to be a bed, but otherwise it was empty.

_At least I'm alive,_ Wesley told himself. _As long as I'm alive, I can still get out of this._

He didn't dare try to press his luck by disobeying the pirate, so he willingly entered the cell.

-=-=-

Wesley awoke with a start as something clattered onto the floor. He glanced at his watch; he had managed to get about four hours of sleep. His back ached, but he ignored it and glanced at the floor of his cell.

The pirate he was now a hostage of had left a bowl of what seemed to be some sort of thick gruel. The clattering sound had been a rusted spoon that had been dropped carelessly beside it. On the other side was a glass of water.

Wesley took heart in this meager meal; it meant that the pirate wasn't going to kill him. Cheerfully, he picked up the spoon and tasted the gruel; it was cold and tasted stale, but it was food nonetheless. He managed to gulp some down and sat back down on the metal slab.

He considered his situation. When his family noticed that he was missing, inquiries would surely be made. He was certain that when the ship was found, the Federation would connect it to the Space Pirates. The problem, though, was that he was uncertain of whether or not the Federation would make an effort to find him after that; he wasn't exactly an important figure in politics, so there was always the possibility that he would be presumed dead without being searched for. He shuddered to think of having to spend the rest of his days as a prisoner of the Space Pirates.

Abruptly, Wesley felt the pirate ship stop moving. Moments later, his captor appeared; opening the cage from the outside, the pirate beckoned for Wesley to follow.

His eyes widened as he left the confines of the ship and emerged into an enormous docking bay. Pirates carrying everything from weapons to precious gems milled about, some entering or exiting their ships, others standing around, watching the bustling crowd. Wesley felt his captor's claw close around his arm, and before he knew it he was being steered toward a large gate.

The pirate pressed its claw to a panel by the gate, and it opened; another pirate standing by them eyed Wesley warily. It turned to the first pirate and uttered a series of clicks, chirps, and growls. After the first pirate had responded, though, the second one seemed satisfied and left them alone.

Wesley was led through a series of dizzying turns and corridors; he was certain that he would never be able to find his way back without help. They stepped through a hatch into a large room, and Wesley was suddenly thrown unceremoniously to the floor.

Scrambling to his feet, he looked around. They seemed to be in some sort of conference room; a long table with ten chairs, each occupied by a fierce-looking Space Pirate, took up most of the dimly-lit room. The back of the room was completely dark, but Wesley thought he saw two yellow eyes gleaming as he peered into the blackness. They disappeared as soon as he had seen them, though, and Wesley turned his attention back to the ten pirates.

His captor was communicating with them; at one point it gestured toward Wesley and itself. After about a minute of this unintelligible speech, the pirates at the table responded, and Wesley's captor bowed and left.

The ten pirates seemed deep in conversation; they more or less ignored Wesley, who now was shifting uncomfortably. He wished he could understand what they were talking about, but there was nothing he could do about that.

Turning slightly, he eyed the door apprehensively. It had been left open…could he possibly slip out without them noticing. He glanced hesitantly back, and again he saw the gleam of two yellow eyes.

Suddenly, a snarl came from the back of the room; there was no doubt in Wesley's mind now that there was something there. The ten Space Pirates all turned their heads toward the source of the sound. Now whatever was back there was communicating in the same language of chirps, clicks, and growls that the pirates did, but it sounded…different. Harsher. More frightening.

"Ah, but why should our guest here miss out on the details of our plans for him?"

The being in the shadows had suddenly switched to English. If it was possible, the use of his own language only served to make the sound of the creature's voice even more terrifying to Wesley.

It rose up, suddenly, and Wesley saw the silhouettes of two bat-like wings. Then it emerged from the shadows, and he saw exactly who he was dealing with.

The draconic visage of the pirate commander Ridley filled Wesley's sight, an ugly grin on the beast's face.


End file.
